Happy Christmas: The Wrapping Should've Stayed On
by theNEWanias
Summary: Fred and George Weasley Return home for the holidays, for a much deserved family celebration. The trouble is, when they have a little to much too drink, it becomes more than obvious what they feel for each other. Complete Uh oh. slash, FWGW
1. Midnight Show aka Chapter 1

Disclaimer: If this was real, do you REALLY think I'd be downstairs on a computer, writing about it? Didn't think so.

A/n: I got this idea from a friend of mine after we went and saw the fifth movie. It all kind of escalated into a "let's-ignore-the-bad-stuff-and-make-it-humorous/happy-instead." So excuse me for skipping along past the facts. Also, thanks, Katie.

Sometime last year… (aka chapter 1)

The moonlight did not filter. It burst – into the room and onto the floor in crystalline stripes, softly illuminating the old, worn, wooden floorboards. It stretched onward and conquered everything in its path…including the bed. It was this irritating fact that woke George Weasley from his most valuable sleep, so when he looked out the window only to discover that it was still in the early hours of the a.m., he managed to grumble his way underneath the covers, and fall back noiselessly asleep.

But not for long.

About an hour later, Fred woke up out of sheer, indiscriminate, randomness. And because of his tactless lack of appreciation, he followed the proverbial thread and woke his twin. "George…. George? _George_!" he shook the grumpy boy from a well-resting dream, and looked scandalized when George's temper flared.

"What are you on about, waking me up before sunrise?" He squinted in his near-blindness: it was dark and light all at once. The dark of the night still held fast to the walls and its shadows were still lingering…and yet, the moonlight seemed to draw itself – spitefully, in George's opinion – straight to Fred's pale skin and bright hair. This created a sort of halo…which of course was absurd. It was Fred, after all.

"I…I just wanted to say hi."

"At this hour in the morning?" Fred nodded. "Bloody hell, go back to bed!" and that was George's last comment on the situation.

"But…but…" Fred whimpered. He knew it was a pathetic attempt at being…well…pathetic. But all the same, he thought it was cute. Or he hoped, at the very least.

When the morning finally did approach, those moonlight stripes had been replaced: first by an ethereal light of soft green, then pale yellow, then finally, the sky was rewarded with its usual lively blue color. The bright light cascaded over the room, tumbling across the bed, heightening the all-around sharpness of the twins' features. It made their hair burn a bright, fiery shade of red; made their skin glow with a light of its own; made them seem like they were actually harmless. What a sight, right?

George was the first to notice this. He pulled back gently on the bed and propped his head on his hand, his elbow resting on the mattress. He remembered his little rant from last night, and he felt suddenly sorry. He reached out and lightly ran an open palm down Fred's side, barely brushing it. He let the hand rest on Fred's hip. Fred turned a little in his sleep and mumbled something.

"Fred." George felt bad for doing this, even if it _was_ morning. "Fred wake up – it's morning."

A single, bright blue eye cracked open. "Is it, now?" George couldn't tell for sure if there was a malicious tone in that or not; it was too early. "Well then, I suppose I should be getting up; alright." He made to sit up, but before he could, George put an arm out across his chest to stop him.

"I'm sorry…for what I said. I was…out of line." He seemed like he was having a hard time saying that. It wasn't natural for a Weasley Twin, after all.

"Don't worry about it: you were tired." Fred shrugged it off.

That was one of the differences between Fred and George. Fred took everything with a wink and a shrug. George got too serious sometimes, when it was just them. Fred could always justify George's actions. Always. It didn't matter that he was sometimes wrong; all that mattered to Fred was that they were still together, in all senses of the word.

They lay there for a little while longer, just letting the sun warm their bodies; happy for the heat…it was winter, after all.

"George?"

"Yeah, Fred?"

"I'm cold." And with that, George went into action, wrapping his arms around his twin, snuggling up close to him, trying to share his own body heat.

"Any better?"

"Yeah."

And for a time, there was silence. George let his hands rub absentmindedly at Fred's neck, his back; his cheeks. Eventually – when he was awake enough – he planted a chaste kiss on his brother's neck, then his lips. Fred let out a soft sigh, and the kiss deepened, tongues gliding in sync with each other, all thoughts forgotten.

When the kiss ended, they both sighed against each other, and Fred said, "Hey George,"

"Yeah?"

"Did you realize that our door has been unlocked this _entire_ time?"

"Oh…no, I…I didn't." A deep, truly Weasley blush hid his freckles from view. "God, can you imagine if someone had seen all that?"

George guffawed at the idea. "No! That would be bloody awful, and damn right hard to explain: 'Yes, that's right, Mum, Fred and I are snogging and to top it off, we're probably going to fuck one day.' Oh yes, that _would _be rich!" he shook his head in silent bewilderment of their own stupidity. You know why it would suck even more if we got caught?"

"Why?" Fred's tone was not of curiosity, but of amusement.

"Because then, we'd be separated. Then, I couldn't do this," and 'this' turned out to be a kiss: deep like before, only not as…rough. More like a quiet way of saying 'I love you.' And that was good enough for Fred.

"Yeah, I'd miss that." He said finally.

They both got up and went downstairs, looking forward to Christmas breakfast. It always was the best.

* * *


	2. Tomorrow Never Knows aka Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Notmine-notmine-notmine...pleasedon'tsue.

The Following Year…

Two words: of age.

Fred and George were thrilled by this simple, simple sentence. It gave them so much happiness, you wouldn't believe. The smiles that had spread wide the day of their seventeenth birthday eight months ago still left a soreness to their jaw muscles, but was worth the wince every time.

It was now the week before the holiday break, and the twins were looking forward to sitting down in their living room on Christmas night, opening presents with the rest of the Weasley Family (plus Harry, they hoped.) and finally getting to drink…not without the watchful eye of Mrs. Weasley hovering, of course, but drink nonetheless.

They had already begun packing in great anticipation for the holidays, pressing all but their robes, wands and books into their trunks. Conversation had also taken a turn from the prospect of alcohol to a little problem.

"Fred?" George suddenly realized it.

"Yes?" he was currently trying to stuff a…_was that a…_?? George thought…_yup, that's a toilet seat_.

"Um..." he tried to ignore it. "How are we gonna hide it?"

"What? The toilet seat?" he smirked. "Happy Christmas, Ginny."

"No, no…though, that certainly _is_ something to think about. No, how are we going to hide…us? You and me? Our…whatever it is."

"Um.. George. We've been hiding this for a long time – this is just Christmas break, it's not that long and anyway, we still have our own room. It's not that big a deal."

"Let's hope not…" he brooded over that for a short time, before he added, "Let's also hope Mum doesn't have you scalped for bringing that thing home!"

Fred laughed as he managed to get the seat to fit into the bottom of his trunk. "I figure that it's a bit late, but hey. What're ya' gonna do?" He shut the lid to his trunk with a loud _"bang!"_ "Besides, better late than never, right?" he grinned wildly.

George wandered over to his twin and embraced him, stealing a kiss at his neck. Fred let a soft moan escape. "Hey." Fred rubbed the back of George's neck with his scratchy nails. "You wanna' get some 'stuff' done before we have to leave?"

"Yeah." Fred attempted to be all dashing and graceful by backing up to pull the two of them down onto the bed…but he tripped and made a slight gasping noise, more of a squeak than anything. "You're so cute."

"Shut up, it wasn't meant to be cute." He was a little miffed at the remark, though not so much as he was at his own natural clumsiness.

"'Shut up?' Make me." George knew he was tempting fate…it was his favorite pastime.

Fred responded by leaning up and kissing his mirror image, struggling for composure. He liked this situation a lot; he was quick to anger, even quicker to forgive and forget.

George looked at Fred, who was sitting up against the headboard of the bed. The soft, white light of the snow outside was casting him into a pastel finish – like a painting or perhaps a marble statue. He seemed suddenly distant. _Maybe he's daydreaming_, George thought. It would be fitting. That had been a very nice ten minutes…all the time they had.

"Fred?"

"Mmm?" He blinked.

"We need to hurry up and get downstairs. This won't look good if we're found."

"I know." He didn't seem to care. "I just wish…"

"What? What do you wish?"

"Nothing…it doesn't…nothing."

George sat up and wrapped his slender arms around Fred, and clung to him, and whispered, "You can tell me. What's up?"

A smirk.

"No, seriously."

The smirk faded. "I guess, I just wish sometimes, that you and I could be…just…you and I. That we didn't have to lie all the time."

"Oh Fred, it isn't as bad as all that: look, Alicia, Katie, and Lee all know. They're not bothered by it." George fought the urge to both laugh and wince. "Come to think of it, Katie and Alicia think it's cute or something." He nuzzled Fred's pale, bony shoulder, cherishing the not-so-identical freckles. His were a different pattern than George's.

"Yeah, but it's not the same; they're different. They're not Mum. They're not Mum and Dad and Ron and everyone else!" He brought a finger up to massage his temple. "Sometimes, I'd give anything to know that this wasn't so bad. So…looked down upon. It hurts, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah I know. But!" George kissed him quickly on the lips, his cheerful tone both irking and reassuring to Fred's ears, "We'll just take it in stride and keep going! We always do, and I'd say it's gotten us far in life."

"Aren't you Mr. Inspirational today?" A smile. A real smile. Not a smirk, not a look, not an arched eyebrow…ok, well, maybe a _little_ bit of that last one, but still: a smile.

"You bet. Come on. Let's not get in trouble for once."

As they put their robes back on, George could've sworn that he heard his brother whisper, _"Not that we don't always get back _out_ of it…together_._"_

He couldn't resist shaking his head.


	3. The Safe Is Unsafe

The air was cold, and the Weasley twins regretted sorely their decision to get to the train station so early. They had already used the little charm Hermione had showed them to put a small, blue flame into a jar, but it was barely enough to heat even their hands. 

They stood, pacing and shivering for an hour – it seemed a _great_ deal longer than that! – until finally, the train arrived. Shivering and frigid, they climbed quickly aboard.

Their frozen waiting paid off: they found a compartment in the back of the train, and after tucking away their trunks and such, they firmly shut the door and relaxed in a seat next to one another. "It feels _sooooo_ good to be going home for a little bit, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, and since Harry's going to be there, we don't have to spend the better part of break hoping the Muggles are treating him alright…"

"…Which means we won't have to listen to Ron whining about it, either." George finished.

"_Yeah_…." They sighed in unison, Fred snuggling closer to George, his head resting in the hollow created by his shoulder meeting his neck. George was staring out the frosted train window, when he was startled from his gaze by Fred, who had mumbled something into his skin.

"What was that, mate?"

"Said'Iloveyou,Geroge'."

"Oh." George grinned a mile wide and leaned down to kiss his brother on the head. "I love you too, Fred." And with that, Fred fell fast asleep on George's shoulder.

When Fred woke up, it was twilight, and the beautiful countryside was disappearing rapidly before his eyes: white fields bereft of sheep, high mountains that gleamed violet in the receding sunlight, and lakes covered by ice. All rushing away.

Night had fallen once they reached King's Cross station, and while George was tired as ever, Fred was _wide_ awake. Trains did that to people sometimes, he supposed. They each gave their mother and father a great big hug, and then retrieved everything they had brought home. Trunks; bags; whatever.

Arriving at the Burrow was tiresome, but the old house was a sight for sore eyes, certainly. Everyone – Ginny, Ron, the twins, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley – all went straight to bed, without any more than "Goodnight."

Fred and George slipped quietly into their bed, and with arms around each other's waists, they fell asleep.

In the morning, they woke to a loud knocking on their door: "Fred, George, wake up!" It sounded an awful lot like Ron. Before the twins could untangle themselves, Ron came bursting in, going on about how he didn't care if they missed breakfast – more for him – but Mum did. And then he stopped. "Err…" he stood there, scuffing his foot. "Um…what exactly…why are you…never mind. I'll just…I'll just go then." Ron left, hoping to himself that what he had witnessed was the twins' way of gathering body heat.

"Good morning all!" The twins chimed in together as they Apparated into the kitchen, scaring Mrs. Weasley half to death.

"Good morning boys," Mr. Weasley said jauntily.

"You don't have to use magic at every turn now," their mother scolded. "Just because you can, doesn't mean you should!" She sat down huffily next to Mr. Weasley.

"Oh, let the boys have a bit of fun, Molly! After all, they're just excited because they can do magic _without_ need for reprimanding." His smile was cheerful at the moment; he remembered when he had first been allowed to use magic outside of school, and he had done the exact same thing.

They took seats next to each other, grinning ear to ear. "Wha're _you_ two so 'appy abou'?" Ron said, mouth full of eggs and toast.

"Oh, nothing." They said together.

"Alright then." Ron took a swig of pumpkin juice.

As the twins each piled food onto their plates – pancakes, eggs, sausage, and anything else that was there – they began to play a little game with each other, trying to see who would give up first. Fred had started it: passing his free hand over George's thigh ever-so gently, underneath the table.

George retaliated by slowly inching his foot out of its slipper, and after hooking their ankles together, sliding his ankle up his brother's leg. Fred barely flinched.

Following suit, Fred let his hand slide away from George's thigh…up his side, back down, and rested on his hip. He lightly pinched him. "Agh!" George jumped in his seat.

"What is it?" Ginny looked across the table at her brothers, head cocked to one side curiously.

"Nothing, nothing. Just a cramp in my leg is all." George said, slowly rubbing his lower leg for effect, and glaring at Fred.

"Have I won, yet?" Fred stage mouthed.

"No."

A few minutes later, when Fred went to get up for a moment, glass in hand and nobody looking – they were all distracted by Harry and Ron's retelling of some grand run-in with Mrs. Norris – George smacked Fred on the ass, good-naturedly of course.

A loud, shattering of glass ensued.

Everyone turned to see George sniggering and Fred with one leg up, bent at the knee, avoiding the broken glass. "What happened?" Mrs. Weasley scurried into action, waving her wand to summon the broom and dustpan.

"Must've…" Fred stuttered. George smiled playfully at him. "Must've slipped. I'm still a little tired, is all."

"Well next time, don't be so clumsy!" Once the glass had all been collected, she waved her wand wordlessly, and the pieces converged into a single glass again.

"Yeah Fred," George mocked, "What's the matter, got a slip in your grip?"

Fred snarled at the little innuendo. "Just you wait, I'll give you a –"

But whatever Fred was going to give him would have to wait, because just then, the door burst open and the next pair of boisterous Weasley brothers, Bill and Charlie, had entered the house. "Happy Christmas, Mum!" Charlie gave Mrs. Weasley a hug, as did Bill, and it all looked rather comical, seeing as her height was so much lessened than her sons'.

After warm welcomes and even warmer food had passed the time, the twins realized that they had a lot of time to kill. They didn't want to risk being missed by anyone else, because that could mean exposure. On the other hand, they wanted Fred-and-George time…hard to come by when you're supposed to be chillin' with the family for Christmas.  
In agreement, they followed Ron, Harry, and Ginny outside for a snowball fight, and possibly even the construction of a snowman. This was actually very good for masquerading any feelings of lust because they were completely fixated on being a two-man army: no matter how well Ron and Harry had built that wall – despite Ginny's best efforts at never failing to supply frosty ammo, the trio simply could not rival the twins enchanted snowballs…ironically, they had bewitched the frigid things to search for body-heat.

One problem: Charlie had come out to join in the fun for a little while, and lo and behold! a torrent of Weasley Enchanted Snowballs had diverted from their original trajectory, and he had become the new target. "Oi!" he shouted in surprise.

"Sorry for starting the party without you, Charlie." Started George…

"But we just couldn't wait any longer!" Finished Fred. They just looked at each other and laughed.

"I would join those two, seeing as where you three out-number them, but something tells me they don't need greater numbers." Charlie beamed, and ducked down just in time to avoid being hit again.

So the snowball fight raged on, but inevitably came to an embarrassing end, the twins having won. Charlie went back inside to help his mother put presents out, and so Ginny set out on rolling large snowballs for a snowman. Harry and Ron went off to find stuff like a hat and scarf, and maybe a pipe, if they could find one. "Aren't you two going to help?" asked Ginny.

"Nah, we're a bit too old for it, I think."

"Nonsense." Said Harry, who hardly ever had a chance to make a snowman, considering his life previous to Hogwarts. "You're never too old for this sort of thing."

"Just the same…" Said George, and the twins walked off down the blanketed field.

"So, you reckon we'll have some _real_ us time tonight?" Fred asked, leisurely reaching out to grab George's gloved hand.

George hesitated, and then let his hand be clasped. "Oh probably…we might want to think about a silencing charm, or something…you know, just in case."

There was a pause.

"Hey, look how far away from the house we are." Fred pointed out. George watched the snowflakes fall and quickly melt on his brother's freckle-smattered nose.

"Yeah, we should probably go back." George stood there, facing the house. He went to walk back, but found he was pulled backward almost as if he had been attached to a rubber band.

"Not just yet." Fred pulled him closer and began to kiss him – deeply – but George stopped him.

"What if someone sees?!" he exclaimed, although he couldn't deny that the rest of him wanted to continue kissing.

"As I said, look how far away we are. Relax, George…no one will see." He kissed him again, "God, you always have been more of a worrier than me."

After George allowed himself to be kissed some more, he said, "I am not. Just…precautious, that's all. Don't want to end up like Percy: disowned." The look of worry on his face troubled his twin.

"You don't really think…you don't suppose…I mean, I know it's _bad_ but, you don't _really_ think Mum and Dad would disown us for this, do you?" For once in his life, Fred sounded like he was really panicking. Perhaps, for once in his life, Fred had actually given it more than an hour's thought.

"Yes, I do." George could see the look of hurt on Fred's face. "Listen, you might say that I worry too much, but do you know what _your_ problem is?"

Fred shook his head slowly, 'no.'

"Your problem is you don't worry _at all_, and one day, it is going to get you –" he hesitated, "…_us_ into trouble. Real, trouble." He added, seeing the devilish grin start to thin Fred's lips. "Not the kind of stupid teacher detentions, not even the kind of stuff Mum yells at us for…no. Real – trouble. And we won't know what to do." He huffed and crossed his arms and turned around to glare at the house, as though it was his family's fault that he had to lecture his twin brother – his lover, on the importance of secrecy.

"Are you done?" after all that seriousness, Fred could still be – or at least pretend to be – completely nonchalant. "Because if so, then I think I have my own two cents to put in."

"And what might that be?" George shot him and incredulous look.

"Look, I'll admit, I do a lot of crazy stuff, and I usually drag you with me…not that you typically object or anything." Fred pointed out, and George blushed scarlet. "To add to that, do you honestly believe that I myself haven't thought of the retribution from the family if they found out?"

Along with his deeper shade of crimson, the other twin muttered, "Yes."

"Well, I have. And part of me would like you to know: I don't care." This resulted in a very, 'I'm-hardly-surprised' kind of look from George. "Although, I have to say that the bigger part of me agrees with you, and so I do believe in the whole taking-our-precautions thing. I just thought you could be less of a nag and let us snog for a few minutes, out here, almost a mile way," this was an exaggeration, George decided, "before we have to go back in and put on our 'just-brothers' show!" He was panting now, his breath visible. He bowed his head low, slumping downward, hunching his shoulders. Clearly, he'd wanted to say this – or some variation thereof – for a very, long time.

Suddenly – and he knew he this beyond inappropriate, even for _them_ – George had a giggle fit. And these were not just your run-of-the-mill school-girl giggles. This was full-on, raucous, rude, and cruel laughter; but he couldn't help it. He really couldn't! Perhaps it was the seriousness in Fred's voice – that in itself was a very laughable idea…or maybe it was how he had expected this to all blow over. Either way, he laughed and laughed and laughed, just waiting for Fred to jinx him or something. Just happily awaiting revenge.

But it never came. Oddly enough, Fred's original angry glare had – very reluctantly, George noticed – transformed itself into a grin, and Fred began to laugh just as hard, which only sent George into _more_ hysteria. The two rolled around in the snow, clutching their sides, laughing at one another, if not themselves, and when it finally died down, they just looked at each other and grinned. No apologies necessary, just smiles.

"Well then, shall we go back?" George finally asked.

"I think so, my friend, I think so." They linked arms cheerfully and set off toward the house, quietly laughing every now and again until the reached the door. "George?" Fred asked timidly.

"Yes?" he said, the smile still beaming and wide.

Fred pulled tightly at his scarf; the sun was almost down. "Next time I decide to get all serious and dramatic on you? Do us both a favor, and shut me up." He smiled, cerulean eyes twinkling.

"Consider it done." He said, laughing still.

When they entered the house, everyone was already gathered in the sitting room and the fire was going and the dessert was being passed around. Not wanting to miss anything, the two boys hurriedly stripped themselves of coats and boots and gloves, quickly finding a spot next to each other in a large, winged chair, big enough to allow them to sit in it simultaneously.

This year was – financially – a little less tight for the Weasley family, and so the presents were in a slight more abundance this year…but just slight. To add to this delight, some of the order had joined them for Christmas, including Tonks, Lupin, and of course, Sirius. And everyone was both giving and receiving gifts.

They had given a variety of hilarious gifts, including some Skiving Snackboxes, to Ron and Harry, a newly perfected "magic mirror" to Tonks, in which she could see, by letting others look into it, if they too could transform at will, and a prank scarf to Ginny, that only she could wear: if someone else tried to steal it, or wear it without her permission, it would tighten dangerously on the wearer's own neck…and then –

"What's this?" Ginny picked up a round, good-sized package, flat and heavy.

"It's from us, Gin." Said Fred, and he encouraged her to open it. She did, reluctantly, and then laughed at the joke within: the Hogwarts toilet seat that the twins had promised her four years ago, before she had been allowed to go. Everyone was laughing at it, even Mrs. Weasley, who at the time had scolded them for the idea.

These were just a few of the things they gave to the rest of the family.

Of course, they also received a lot of presents back: scarves with their first initials on them from – who else? – their mother, sweets from many, and peculiarly enough, a small, long, thin box for each of them, from Ron. "What's this?" Fred said with a slight slur; both of them had started in on the Firewhiskey – and he began to unwrap his.

"NO!" Harry and Ron had shouted together, which seemed even odder than the mysterious present.

"Alright then…" George said, pulling Fred's box into his lap. As he leaned over to do so, he whispered into Fred's ear, "I'll slip check it out when I get our next drink." Fred nodded at this as though it were a very sensible solution, and not the _incredibly_ dumb idea that it was.

And that he did. He slowly made his way into the kitchen., and having slipped both boxes into his pocket earlier in the night, he discovered two vials of pink liquid, which he poured into his and his brother's glasses. When he returned, everyone seemed warm and content, though, none so drunk as the two Weasley Twins. Not something their mother was happy about, but once again, Arthur Weasley stood between Molly and the shattering of a first-time experience. She was as worried as ever now, and for good reason.

The 'present' had been sort of a joke-turned-truth-telling. Ron had managed – through Harry, of course – to get his hands on some Veritaserum, and with the help of Hermione, turned it pink. That was all it was: but for what it was worth, it wasn't meant to do what it did.

It began to work slowly, perhaps due to the color changing charm, but nonetheless, the twins were acting undeniably strange. It started out as sometimes-overly friendly kisses to one another's cheeks, followed by random petting of each other's ginger hair, and was led the entire time by strange and slurry remarks to each other, like calling each other, "brother dear," and "love," and the strangest of all, flirting drunkenly and openly with each other. But the worst, Ron feared, was yet to come…and come it did.


	4. You Couldn't Deny

Disclaimer: Even_ I'm_ not that good. Those characters? totally not mine.

A/n: Sorry for the short chapter, but I was kind of hoping that all the drama would make up for it! And thank you soooooooo much to all the people who reviwed this story! I appriciate it more than anyone knows. So, onward!...

Silence. Absolute and dangerous silence…for about two minutes. This was promptly followed by Mrs. Weasley's trademark loud, screechy admonishment, as well as a few coughs of, perhaps embarrassment, if not mortification.

Everyone was staring, but the twins really couldn't grasp that just now, what with all the yelling. When Mrs. Weasley paused for breath, Fred interrupted her, "Wellnow Georgie…" the slur was more than apparent, "Never knew anyone could," hiccup "yelllike that, now did we?" He smiled congenially at his brother, who smiled stupidly back, his lips still wet and glistening from the kiss they had just shared in front of the entire family: long, sloppy, snogging. Nothing could cover _that_ one up!

"No one but our dear wonderful Mum, nosurree!" And before they could be stopped the two of them returned to their wonderful kiss, but then…

"I can't believe the two of you!" She screamed. "I could accept it much easier if it were with some other boy…God knows I have no problem with that! But honestly, the two of you: brothers…_twins_!" She shouted as though it was her life's ambition to attain an eternal degree of laryngitis.

"WellnowMum," George began, "at least we're both boys. It's not like we can get pregnant, contradictory to any beliefs of ickle Ronnie's over here." He pointed a swaggering, accusatory finger in Ron's direction; despite the awkward and desperate situation, there were scattered sniggers popping up out of the shadows. George looked rather pleased with himself, even in this drunken stupor.

"That's not the point!" Mrs. Weasley had endured every prank the twins had ever pulled: transforming Ron's teddy bear into a spider – before they'd even set foot in Hogwarts! – and then of course, there were all the times they had tortured Percy. While she wasn't particularly happy with her third eldest son, she didn't condone the twins' continuous barrage of practical jokes upon him. These of course, never matched up with all the things they had schemed within the very walls of Hogwarts, for that matter, and if this was a joke – which she really hoped it was – then it was the last straw! "The two of you cannot be serious! It can't be!" she looked close to tears, actually, and it hurt them a little, even when they could hardly register other's emotions. Finally, Mrs. Weasley looked up from her disappointment, and said, "That's it. You'll _have_ to be separated." She was about to say something else, when she was cut off.

To everyone's utmost surprise, it wasn't Arthur, or Ron, or even Bill or Charlie. It was Ginny. "Mum…ah, I realize that this is certainly not…um……" she searched for the right word, and pulled one from the vocabulary arsenal Hermione had helped her to build. "…_conventional_, but – and I'm not saying any of us needs to agree with it – but maybe…maybe they really actually _care_. And as strange and gross as it may seem…" but she stopped, perhaps afraid of the scowl her mother had turned on her now at this attempt at justifying the twin's bizarre relationship.

"Maybe…maybe Ginny's right, Mrs. Weasley." Harry piped up. He didn't exactly like the idea of the twins being so…close, especially when he was in the house. But he figured that he might as well stand up for his friends. They'd helped him enough times to deserve some back-up.

"Yeah, um…it's just…like that." Added Ron, trying to get his words into the conversation. Unfortunately, that was the last rational statement made before the entire room was in an uproar. People were arguing loudly, taking sides, mitigating this odd and 'perverse' behavior, while still trying to uphold their own dignity. And that seemed a very hard task to do by the looks of it.

Now then, amidst all this chaos and commotion, Fred and George had seemingly lost most of their inebriation, and stood up out of their chair. "Erm, excuse us," they didn't want to tenderize the subject any more than they had.

"Guys," Fred started, but was continued to be ignored by the throng of quarrelling family members and friends.

"Hellooooooo," George tried. "People!!" his voice was rising as he was becoming increasingly irritated.

"Folks! Please…" Fred began, but just stopped. They realized – together, of course – that to try and separately gather everyone's attention was a long-lost battle. So, looking at each other and nodding in agreement, they upped the ante.

"**SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU!!!**" They chorused; they had stood up on top of the chair, which only increased their height to towering. Everyone stood stalk-still; some people were reaching over at opposing sides, others had glasses in their hands. In fact, George was sure he heard a glass drop and break somewhere in a corner.

"This is ridiculous!" Fred shouted into the silence.

"You're handling this like little children! All of you!" George continued.

"Thank you to those who have defended us," said Fred.

"But it is plainly evident that our kind of love isn't welcome here." George added.

"So, we'll just be off, and Mum, Dad, you can send us our things when we get a place to stay. Goodnight, all." The twins finished together, in trademark fashion.

There was a long, resonating silence, as though time had just stopped. The twins were already half way out to the kitchen when both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rushed out to them.

"Yes, yes, we know." Said George, somewhat begrudgingly. "We'll hurry."

"No, no boys. Don't leave." Mr. Weasley said. Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to say something, but Arthur shushed her. "Molly, no." He had that serious air to his voice that he always got when he was going to negotiate some solemn piece of news. "Look, I don't pretend to be thrilled by this. I'm not."

"Clearly." muttered Fred.

Ignoring the comment, Mr. Weasley pressed onward. "But, I don't think it is a reason for you to leave the family. We've lost one family member via condemnation already: let's not allow that number to grow, please." His eyes pleaded with his sons, and they stood still for a moment, looking at each other, silently deliberating in that twin way they always used.

Finally, "Alright, but what about you, Mum?" Fred asked cautiously, afraid of the answer, but expectant despite himself. "What do you have to say about this, and in as normal tones as possible please." He added as soon as he saw the color rising again in his mother's cheeks.

Flustered, she spluttered for a bit, looking from her two twin sons to her husband, in disbelief that this was happening – and on Christmas day, at that! "Well, I…I…"

"Yes, Mum?" George asked impatiently, his foot tapping, muffled by the wooden floor.

"I guess…" she sounded dejected. "I suppose I'll just have to accept it, boys." They looked at one another gleefully. "But please, try not to be so…so obvious about it."

"Yeah, yeah." They said together, and then laughed at themselves.

When they came back into the sitting room, everyone was looking expectantly at both Molly Weasley and her sons. "We've been cleared!" Fred shouted, as though returning from a trial before the Minister of Magic.

George surfaced from their last 'obvious' kiss in front of the family, saying, "Pardoned is more like it, really." And of course, this was greeted with laughter…cat-calls from Ron and Ginny and even Tonks at their kiss.

"Alright, alright, alright, you two, that's _quite_ enough of that!" Mrs. Weasley said, a slightly reproachful note in her voice.

They just grinned and sat together in the chair again, not daring to pick up where they left off with the Firewhiskey. They did however conclude something in their quietness.

"Well, I'm glad _that's_ over." Fred stated cheerfully, his voice almost lost amongst the noisy chatter.

"Yeah, me too. But," George whispered into Fred's ear, "We still have something to figure out."

"And what might that be?" Fred asked suspiciously.

"I think I know what that stuff Ron gave us was." Fred gave him an inquisitive look. George answered it with, "It was veritaserum." Fred scoffed, but George continued. "It was, though! Even if we had been that drunk, without the veritaserum, we would have been fine! I know what it was, and I am not happy about it."

"Why would he give us that, though?"

"That's what we're going to find out." Said George, a look of scheme and deviousness sprawled across his freckle-smattered face.


	5. Twilight

_"Creak"_. Fred stopped dead, foot held aloft, George almost running into him. 

"What're you –" George whisper-hissed, but he was interrupted.

"Shhh!" Fred indicated the impudent board beneath his feet. "Let's not wake him, _please_." Stepping beyond the creaky plank of wood, Fred continued to walk in an absurd fashion in an attempt to be sneaky. George just rolled his eyes and walked onward, squeaky floorboards or no.

They passed various doors to other's rooms and finally made it up to the top floor: Ron's room. "Now then," Fred began, "I believe our dear brother Ronald has some explaining to do?" He looked to his twin, grinning.

"Quite." George did not grin, but a sly smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, a gleam clearly visible in his eyes. With that, they pushed open the door to see Ron, asleep under the moonlight. They crept quietly into the room, giggling softly to each other about how hysterical this was going to be, slowly drawing out their wands….

_Ron was floating…floating down a river. Or was it? "Whatever!" he thought happily, enjoying how the trickle of the water-ish substance that was carrying him felt around his body. It was cold, but not uncomfortably so; kind of dreamy and fluffy. Or was it also warm? He wanted desperately to identify its color, but he couldn't. It shimmered endlessly in and out of pastel pinks and baby blues and luscious lavenders – then riveting reds changed into deep, navy cobalt, and from there transformed into a bright, sunny yellow, and back again, all the while preserving a sort of sparkle and sheen. He closed his eyes again, allowing himself to float onwards. _

_Upon reopening his eyes, he realized that he was in fact passing masses of fluffy clouds, lined with pinks and oranges. "Well," he thought, "This is bizarre." Then, looking upward, he noticed the sky above him (and below him, as he understood it) was dark indigo, with millions and millions of tiny lights sparkling everywhere. "Stars…" he thought. "Wicked."_

_And then, he was falling. And he was falling at an alarmingly fast rate, watching helplessly as clouds and stars and colorful water sped out of his reach. He wanted to scream, he really did, but when he opened his mouth to try, nothing came out, and the next thing he knew…_

…"thud."

"Ow…really, ow!" Ron sat up, clutching the back of his head and rubbing gently where the pain had taken root. He looked around, his initial response being panic when he realized he was no longer in bed, or in the house…or even in his own yard, by the look of it. He looked around, sort of dazed, sort of frightened, and then he began to notice the somewhat disturbing features of his new environment. He was sitting in the middle of a copse, it seemed: the trees surrounding him were young and wild, and there was a tiny, trickling stream near by, its splashes and drips sounding faintly like chimes and pan-flutes. And yet, as beautiful as that seemed to him, at the time it was more scary than comforting.

Also rather unsettling, were the minuscule white lights; orbs a-glow, hovering around the clearing, disappearing in and out from between the trees – Ron couldn't shake the sensation that he heard soft, high giggling every-which-way he turned. So, unable to move for fear of becoming lost, he sat there, on the verge of tears, huddled in the soft grass and wishing – _praying_ – that this was all just part of his strange dream. That those lights were the result of his hard landing. That the rushing stream contained nothing threatening. That those giggles were not getting deeper and deeper in tone, in sync with the sudden appearance of two stocky silhouettes approaching the copse. And then, his fear and dementia were quickly replaced by rage and embarrassment at the sight of two identical pairs of bright eyes and mischievous smiles.

"Somebody's got some 'splainin' to do." One of the twins intoned in a startlingly eerie sing-song voice. Ron couldn't tell the two apart normally, much less when hidden in the dark.

"And it isn't us, Ickle Ronnie." The other stated harshly. Ron shoved himself on the inside for not expecting retaliation. "Cheer up, little brother." The same twin said…or so he thought.

"Yeah, you're safe here…for now."

Ron dug deep and found the courage to speak. "W-where are w-we?"

"Doesn't matter…" said one twin.

"You won't remember." Said the other.

"Now start talking." They said in unison, and Ron was shaken by being confronted, both of his brothers sitting before him, the little lights enhancing the overall effect of creepiness of the situation.

"Alright, alright, alright!" Ron said, drawing his legs up and crossing his arms, and he began to recount his reasons for his little fiasco at the Christmas party, the twins staring at him in anticipation.


	6. Willingly Forced

Disclaimer: Ha. Come on folks. Come on. (aka, I'm not good enough to own these guys, or get money from this writing.)

A/n: I first of all want to thank everyone for the reviews, because they are what encouraged me to keep this thing going. And once again, thank you Kaite: without you, this wouldn't be up.

"…So, that's all it was about, little brother?" Fred asked with a smile on his face. "You just wanted to know about what you saw that morning? _Really_?" He lounged happily in George's lap.

"Well, when you put it that way, you make it sound…"

"Worthless?" George provided.

"Tactless?" Added Fred.

"Callous, uncaring, shameful, cruel, and by any means, a bit of a violation to our privacy?" the two of them chimed, faces upturned in matching gestures of innocence. Ron scoffed.

"I get it, I get it…but it wasn't like I was just going to go up to you two and _ask_." He sounded flustered just by the idea of it.

"Oh Ronnie, why ever not? It would've been much easier on us." Fred said as he stifled a yawn, for it was still in the early hours of morning. His eyes were half closed.

Ron huffed, "I wasn't thinking about making it easy…I was depending on your intelligence not to drink it in public. And could you _please_ not call me that?!"

The twins looked crestfallen, pouting at their little brother. "But we like calling you that!" Fred was able to muster a little more melodrama into his voice than George.

_He always was the play-actor_. Thought Ron instinctively.

"Yes, it's one of our fondest nick-names for you." George added. Perhaps the only truth of Ron's thoughtful statement came from the fact that all of George's voice was invested in his expressions – particularly in his luminous blue eyes.

"Well…I don't like it." Ron looked around. "What is this place anyway?" he asked, avoiding any more conversation on the little annoyance that was his unwanted nick-name. "Why is it so warm and why is there still grass and…"

George cut him off. "We don't have a special name for it…"

"…unlike some of our family." Fred completed the thought, sniggering.

"But we enchanted it." George continued, ignoring Ron's protest at the slipped reference.

"A long time ago." Added Fred.

"About the time Fred transformed your teddy-bear, I believe." George looked lovingly down at Fred, licking his own lips hungrily.

"Please, don't remind me." Ron shuddered. "Excuse me, but…COULD YOU NOT DO THAT IN FRONT OF ME?" his voice was sour with what he hoped was disgust as he turned around in time to see the two brothers deep in a kiss. But even as he said it, there was a twinge of longing in his…_no_. He thought bravely to himself. _No, you're not…you don't want…_But then he had to pay attention again, because George had spoken.

"What's the matter, Ron? You were pretty quick to get your word in earlier…to defend us."

"Unless…" Fred gasped.

"What?" Ron asked, completely oblivious to his own bodily warning signs. "_What_?"

"Awwww!" Fred pointed at Ron. "Georgie, look, somebody's jealous!" the mockery stung badly, but it couldn't compare with the beautiful shade of scarlet that now concealed Ron's freckles.

"I am not!" he mumbled, a bit childishly. "I was just…grossed out." He was convincing himself more than them, which was probably good in the long-run.

"Grossed out, huh?" Fred's voice seemed closer than before, but Ron daren't have opened his eyes to check: he was too afraid of what he would find and feel. "That's not what your body is telling us."

There was a smooth breeze that was cold…just like the water had been in his dream: not uncomfortably so. There was just something about this place…

"Take me home." Ron said abruptly.

"But, Ron…you'll never remember –" George started.

"I don't care! Get me out of here. _Now_." He added at the sight of the twins trying to silently deliberate – using of course, the technique of twin-a-kinesis.

They just gave him one last look of hurt – of real, true dejectedness this time – before he was drifting fast asleep again, and he was gone.

In the morning, Ron awoke, clueless and happy, not even able to recall that lovely enchanted dream he'd had of floating down the dream river. None of it came to him. The only thing on Ronald Weasley's mind right then and there was breakfast.

He tripped his way tiredly down the stairs, almost falling completely off balance once, and making a grab for what was the door to the twins' bedroom. The next thing he knew, he was pushing clumsily into their room, expecting to be shouted at. But he wasn't. They weren't there.

He shrugged it off, and continued down to the kitchen. It was not until he had finished eating, when he noticed, and asked the crucial question: "Mum?"

"Yes Ron?" she appeared to be occupied with the stove.

"Mum, where's Fred and George?"

Panic ensued.


	7. The New Year and the Note

Disclaimer: Do I own these cahracters? Nope, nope, nope!

A/n: ok, so...this is the last chapter. Cherish it, please. It was hard to do. Thank you to all the reviewers and your wonderful reviews, and I hope all my other stories are recieved as wonderfully as this was.

The sunlight did not filter. It burst – in through the canopy of enchanted leaves that would never fall. Never would they falter in color. The soft, verdant grass below the two boys smelled as though it had been freshly cut: indeed, it was not as long as it should have been by now, though left to grow on its own.

Fred sighed.

George responded by wrapping an arm around his twin's body affectionately, whispering a single word into his unkempt, ginger hair: _"Fred"_.

"We…we should go home. They're probably missing us." Fred faltered.

"Perhaps." George concurred. He stood up tentatively, and once he had regained his balance – for he was hungry and dizzy – he reached out his hand to his twin.

Fred took it appreciatively and was hoisted up with ease onto his feet. He too was suffering the pangs of hunger. They were too weak to conjure up enough magic out of themselves to whisk themselves home, so they would have to walk back.

Washing their faces in the tinkling stream, they threw on the rest of their clothing: scarves, coats, gloves, hats, etc.

It was cold, and the crunch of their feet in the crisp, clean snow seemed to all but echo across the fields. When they finally found the Burrow to be in sight, they looked at each other, smiled, and rushed on at a sprint. They had practically broken down the door in trying to get in the house; they were so cold and impatient. What greeted them was a worried Molly and a hot meal…and later, some scolding about leaving the house and not being around and all that fuss. But they were able to tune that out, and just appreciate the warmth in their bellies. Food had done them good.

"I'm just so glad you're alright!" said Mrs. Weasley.

Looking over his shoulder, George saw Ron, who was smiling and looking like he had been worried almost as much as their mother.

George poked Fred under the table, and they both smiled back. Seemingly satisfied with this reaction, Ron went back upstairs to whatever he'd been doing before their anticipated arrival.

Epilogue

(aka, the after-the-last-chapter chapter)

_Dear Fred and George,_

_You were right: I was jealous. But only a little bit. _

_Thanks, I guess._

_Ronnie_.

"Awww, look!" Fred called George over to the tree just outside their charmed clearing.

George went over to examine the source of Fred's amusement and all-around happiness. "Well, would you look at that!" he exclaimed, a little impressed. "But how did he know where to…" A very "EUREKA!" kind of look took its place amongst George's pretty features. "Oh Fred. He _did_ remember!"

"What does that mean?" Fred asked; this had never happened before.

"It means," said George, stunned and somewhat flattered, "That he cared. He _wanted_ to remember." George took the note off the tree into the copse with him, and while Fred enjoyed a brief swim, he examined it, and then, "Oh, what's this?"

_p.s. I love you guys. Thank you for the memory.__♥_

The End_  
_


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